Weaker than a Woman — page 141: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

I an FPA VR eI A Od ae We OF Ot cet oe ae he ues Sue eB es eee : 2 ee oe ee ee wes ys a? . * mk 8 oy YQ einai has oo ae ‘* ety ~ 2 ? : % et oo : rane £1 ig POR my oe NS PR > iS Pe Oe, : ; ha . ‘ wA eat Yee P » x ‘ » 132 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. could not say to him, “The girl for love of whom you are breaking your heart thinks so little of you—so little of your pain—that she is going to marry to-morrow the man above all others whom you dislike.” She talkec to him again in the same strain—of the gran- deur and nobility of sorrow, the bravery of bearing pain, the cowardice of falling under a bur den; and then, when | she left him, she whispered to Katie : ‘Be very kind to him to-morrow, madre. He will stand sorely in need of it.” But even Kate did not dream what the words meant. The harvest moon that night shone down upon many different scenes. It crept into a superb room in London, where Sir Owen, flushed with love and wine, told with many an oath to a choice circle of friends how he had out- witted the lawyer and carried off his bride. “T shall have some fine amusement with him when I re- turn to Garswood,” he said. ‘“‘He must have been as vain as Narcissus himself to think that any girl would prefer him to me.” His friends drank his costly wines and applauded him— each ignoble sentiment, each mean idea—until they could do so no longer. ~. The moon looked in at another window—the window of a magnificent chamber, wherein lay all the details of a superb bridal costume—a lace vail of priceless value, a wreath of orange-blossoms, white satin shoes, and white gloves, with a dress that wasa triumph of art. It shone on a pretty white bed whereon a young girl lay—on golden hair that was all disheveled and lying in silken profusion over the pillow—on a fair and beautiful face all stained with tears; for on this evening something like remorse had come to Violet Haye, and she had wept with a wild cry for the lover whom she had bartered for gold. Even the diamonds, the costly gems, the rich dresses, the wealth and grandeur for which she had sold herself, had not power to soothe her. The same moon shone into the room where Eve Lester knelt, her fair face raised to the evening skies, praying Heaven to help the man she loved through the bitter hour of his pain and desolation. It shone into the room where Felix sat writing because he could not sleep and was un able to find rest in anything except work. The silvery moon shone brightly over all. Felix worked until his tired eyes could see no longer, and then he put away his papers. He had business for the comicbooks.com ~—